


Filling the Void

by Destiny_Apocalypse



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Sub Solas, butt stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 12:49:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12388416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiny_Apocalypse/pseuds/Destiny_Apocalypse
Summary: Ashanna enjoys touching the butt





	Filling the Void

Solas is painting in the rotunda the first time it comes up. A soft intake of breath catches his ear, and he glances up to where the Herald has perched herself on his scaffolding with a copy of The Travels of a Chantry Scholar. She has been utterly absorbed into the material for the last hour while he worked on the fresco of their last excursion, paying him little mind to him now as he sets his paint brushes down and surveys his work.

When he looks back at the sound of furtive page turning, her ears are quite unmistakably red.  

An odd response for such a dry tome.

He climbs the ladder, and so preoccupied with Brother Genitivi’s writing is she that she does not even notice his approach as he moves behind her to peer over her shoulder.

> _“Is this too much for you, my dear?” Mariella purrs, grinding the phallus deeper into her lover._
> 
> _“N-No, my queen,” her paramour croaks, burying his face into the cushions as he struggles helplessly against his bindings. Her knots hold however, much to her delight._
> 
> _Mariella tuts and reaches around to grasp Henrique’s love shaft, so thick and warm in her hands she feels the wetness already starting to gather in her nethers._

“A good story, _vhenan_?”  

The shriek she lets out is a much larger response than he was expecting, and he cannot help but chuckle as she launches the book into the air; the small orlesian publication flying out from Genetivi’s volume.

“Solas,” Ashanna breathes. “This is…well this is embarrassing.”

“If anyone should be embarrassed, it should be Mariella for her dreadful lack of technique on poor Henrique.”

She coughs, but raises a heavy brow at him. “He seemed to enjoy it.”

“Mariella didn’t even bother to lubricate her phallus. I assure you poor Henrique would have been exceedingly uncomfortable with that in any part of his anatomy.”

Ashanna purses her lips and considers him for a moment. “You seem knowledgeable about this,” she says finally.

“Perhaps. Does that concern you?”

“No!” She appears startled at his question. “No…I…”

“What are you two elves blushing about up there?”

“It is not a concern of yours, Dorian,” Solas calls up to the second floor. He turns back but Ashanna has already jumped down from the scaffolding, the book hidden within the voluminous folds of her tunic.

***

Solas does not give the incident much thought until a few weeks later, when they are sequestered in her rooms; a rare chance to spend time together without fear of interruptions by advisor or servant. Wards are in place and she is in his arms; soft and _real_ and moaning his name as he kisses and sucks at her breasts. She fumbles behind her, reaching for fistfuls of sheets while his teeth scrape against the sensitive tips that make her legs curl up behind him.

“Your breasts are delightful” he murmurs between freckled flesh, biting her gently enough to force a keening sound out of her.

He merely smiles and attempts to dip his hand dips between her legs. She catches it before he can slip it beneath her leggings.

“Wait,” she breathes, her voice low and raw and making his heart flip a little inside his chest. “I want to touch you right now. Is that okay?”

Oh, he wants her to; to surrender himself to her touch, her hands, her mouth. But it is wrong; one day, when he is not too much of a coward to tell her the truth, the last thing he wants is for her to think herself taken for the Dread Wolf’s pleasure. And yet, she asks him with such a genuine desire to please him it makes him pause; such a change from the withdrawn and sullen women he thought her to be in their first meetings. Her lower lip is pulled between her teeth; her expression faltering at his hesitation. It breaks his already wavering resolve.

“Alright,” he agrees, allowing her to push him back onto the bed. She rewards him with a deep, lingering kiss, her tongue sweeping inside his mouth. He enjoys the press of her body against him; her breasts brushing against him for a brief moment only before she withdraws to slide her hands along his chest and sides. Her fingers tug at the laces of his already straining leggings, forcing a soft grunt out of him. He lifts his hips to help her slide them off, freeing his erection into the cool mountain air that flows in through the open windows, with a slight shiver.

She ignores his erection, instead taking her time to run her hands along his thighs and legs, feeling the muscles twitching beneath his skin. It feels so good to be touched after so long, and she seems particularly fascinated with this part of him. Her palms are rough and calloused as they roam his body; years of hardship etched into the skin that she should never have had to endure.

She moves up his chest, running over his nipples briefly before moving back down to between his thighs and back up again; repeating this over and over until he is thrusting into the air, desperate for some sort of friction. Her hands move down to cup the weight of his balls, then dip lower to press deliberately against the entrance there. He stills and she snatches her hand away instantly.

_“Vhenan.”_

“Solas.”

“May I ask what you had planned to do there?”

“I…ah, wanted to touch you there. May I?”  

“A curious request. Are you sure?”

“If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be asking you, would I?”

He pauses, tilting his head at her. He has no reservations against the act itself, though it has been…some time. Ages.

“If it pleases you, yes.”

“The point is for it to please you, _ma’halla.”_

“You always please me, my heart.”

“Hmmm yes, you always say that.”

She makes a humming sound and reaches over to the wooden nightstand to pull a small bottle out of the drawer. He watches with interest; the movement sending ripples through her body that makes her curves settle pleasantly. She glances back over at him, her amber eyes shining in the dim light of the room.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to-”

He reaches for her hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss the old burn scars across her knuckles.

“I am certain.”

She smiles; not the fake one that Ambassador Montiliyet coached her to give visiting dignitaries, but the rare one that she reserves for him alone with the Inquisition locked away behind closed doors. His heart swells at the sight.

_Such a sentimental fool, you are._

There is a small flash and burst of heat, then the scent of ozone that fills his nostrils. When her fingers return to his entrance they are slick and wet and _warm_. He lets out a breath through his nose as she rubs gentle circles around the ring of muscle to apply the oil evenly. Her other hand comes up to grasp his cock with a firm grip. He cannot help but groan when she pumps her fist over him, squeezing slightly at the base.

“I believe that literature the Spymaster keeps leaving around Skyhold has been giving you ideas. Unless the Dalish are far more adventurous than I had-”

Her finger pushes into him; just the tip but it’s enough to make him momentarily forget what he was saying.

“I’d watch what you say about the Dalish while I have you like this, Solas,” she says lightly.

“A fair point.” He chuckles.

Her finger probes a little deeper, her other hand leaving his cock to brace against his thigh. He clenches his hands into the sheets, pushing back against her finger as it slips in all the way to her knuckle.

“Ah. You like that,” she whispers, her breath puffing against sensitive skin. A warm, wet tongue drags across the underside of his cock and he is forced to throw an arm over his face to stifle the moan that spills out of his mouth.

She curls her finger, stretching him carefully. Her choice in literature is not nearly so detailed with proper…preparation so he suspects she sought out some other source of education on the topic. He tries not to think about where that education came from.

Then a second finger is added and the thought flees his mind as quickly as it comes. She works them in and out, pressing into him with fingers warm from the oil and a heat spell that seeps into his skin and pours molten fire over his bones.

“Am I doing this right?” she asks.

“Exceedingly so,” he groans. “It is…ah…very good.”

She makes a pleased sound and wriggles her fingers inside him until she hits a spot that tears a sound that is very much like a sob from deep in his throat. A warmth radiates from his groin with such intensity that his whole body is trembling. There is a sudden sensation of fullness that creates a pressurized pleasure that only increases when she slips a third finger into him, adding it alongside the others.

“Maybe next time,” she pants, wetting her lips with her tongue. “I can procure something something for us to use like what Mariella used on Henrique in Passions of a Duchess.”

“A worthy expense for the Inquisition,” Solas grunts as she works him deeper. “I would…ah, not object.”

She responds with breathy laugh, watching him with dilated pupils.

His thighs tremble and she uses her free hand to brace them apart, increasing her pace now that three fingers slide in and out of his body with ease. Sweat drips down the side of his neck to pool at his lower back to dampen the Inquisitor’s fine sheets; his muscles clenching and unclenching as he pushes against her hand.

The pressure builds in his lower body, pulsing every time she enters him. His eyes are squeezed shut but he can feel the bed dip when she leans forward to adjust the angle of her fingers. He senses the pull of her mana just before she casts something and then all coherent thought flees as magic sparks through her fingertips into his body. It is the smallest amount of electricity; not strong enough to hurt, but the effect in this part of his anatomy is potent and tears a hoarse cry from deep in his throat.

“Okay?” she asks, sweat dripping down the side of her face. Her cheeks and ears are flushed from exertion.

Solas opens his mouth to answer but his throat is raw and dry. He nods instead, biting back another moan when her fingers curl inside him again. The pressure builds and expands in his groin; pleasure radiating through his veins and making him buck against her hand involuntarily. He swallows, and manages to speak.

“I believe I am close,” he rasps.

The affection on her face is so genuine he feels dumbstruck for a moment, until her fingers move within him once more and he is coming with a sharp moan that fills her room; the dam inside him breaking at last and flooding him with waves of pleasure that ebb and flow and leave him quivering in its wake. He is dimly aware of his release landing on his thighs, his stomach, and likely other places, but the blood is roaring so loud in his ears he cannot parse it for the moment. When his heart settles enough for him to become coherent again, he tries to sit up and finds his body does not cooperate.

He feels as weak as he was when he first woke from uthenera, though for reasons significantly more pleasant this time.

A tongue slides across his stomach and looks down to find Ashanna with quite a bit of his spend on her as well. His face colors as she provocatively licks her fingers clean; finding his cock beginning to stir once more.

“That was a good experiment, wouldn’t you agree?” She waggles her brows at him.

She look so pleased with herself he cannot help it; he lays his head back onto the bed and laughs with genuine mirth until his shoulders shake.

“Something like that,” he agrees, managing to recover enough to twist onto his side. He winds his arms around her waist. “Now I do believe it is your turn.”


End file.
